Frozen flames
by kendraCs
Summary: CS Game of Thones AU. A new game is beginning and Westeros is now in an endless darkness. Magic has to come, Emma has to find it. But maybe she finds a different kind of magic when she met a certain cocky bastard. Cs, OQ, FW, Rumbelle, Darling pan, Cylice, Red Knave
1. Prologue: GRAHAM

Disclaimer: I don´t own neither OUTA nor GOT. Wish I have that imagination, but nope. Enjoy.

**GRAHAM**

His footsteps echoed in the middle of the night, and for a moment, Graham feared the clatter was as harsh in the castle as it was to his own ears. He could not afford to alert the guards or the Princess was as good as dead.

For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. Snow White was at least some hours ahead, and if he did what he had indicated and took the alternate path he had marked on the map instead of taking the King's Road, one would suppose this to be an advantage that couldn't be wasted.

But the castle was unusually quiet tonight, and the silence made the bile rise in his stomach. If there was something he had learned well, it was that silence could predict dark shadows, and those shadows were the sirens of death. Especially if the one manipulating the shadows, with long, slender, white fingers, was Queen Regina.

Inside the gates of the Red Keep, nobody dared to directly accuse the Queen of witchcraft. But the eyes saw, the walls heard, and mouths whispered. They said the Queen worshiped the God of Fire and Shadow, Lord of Light ― R'hollor.

Graham knew that not even that demon-god could possess such dark powers over the land of the living. As Lord Commander of the Royal Guard, it was his duty to protect the King and his legacy, but though this position required compliance of the utmost degree, no one had told him that certain situations would render him blind, deaf, and dumb if needed.

Which was quite often. Especially when it came to the Queen. You had to protect the King, yes. But how do you protect him from himself? The man would never believe that his wife was his deadliest enemy, and probably the only one in all Westeros who wanted him dead most.

In the end, what killed Leopold Stark was no poison but his own naïve, trusting heart.

Still, he should have warned Leopold, he should have said something. It was his duty.

«If only I had told the King my suspicions, perhaps it would be the Queen´s body now cooling in the grave, and not his» Deep down, he realized this would have been useless confidence. The Queen had bribed almost every guard in the city, and what was even more disturbing was the fact that the rest of his White Cloak brothers owed her more loyalty than they had ever given the King.

Panting, he reached Maegor Tower, where the Queen´s chambers were situated. He settled his armor and adjusted his belt, with his sword swinging around his waist. Until now, Graham had not really had a chance to use it. The King was such a benevolent person with a noble heart, one that swords only would rise to protect, never other way, and therefore the work of the Royal Guard consisted mainly in accompanying king. Absently, he ran his hand over the smooth surface of the iron hilt and wondered if finally the time had come to remove the blade from its scabbard.

«I am alone, for no one will dare to accuse the Queen of murder. I have to do this. If she dies, the kingdom will have peace» The thought brought him sadness. There was a possibility that this night would end with the tip of his sword buried into the Queen´s heart. «But it is not treason," he told himself. «I will be fulfilling my oath by protecting the heir to the Iron Throne. Lady Regina is the traitor ― she murdered the King»

Graham remembered clearly the first time he had set foot in King's Landing. Being the eldest son of Lord Tarly of Horn Hill and only fifteen years old, he had also been the only Tarly son who could be part of the tournament held in honor of the King's name-day. He remembered the thrill that ran through his veins whenever his fingers tightened the bow and aimed an arrow. If he closed his eyes, even now after so many years, he could still feel the weight of the quiver on his back, the texture of the wooden bow made of weirwood, and the whistling sounds that arrows made before their tips hit their targets with a thud. That year, he had won the archer's turn, defeating older and more experienced men.

Two moons later, a raven with a message from the King had come to Horn Hill, inviting him to be part of the Royal Guard. And even if he hadn't been particularly inclined to exchange arrows for a sword and armor, he knew he could not reject the King's offer. Even if he was a very kindhearted man, a negative answer could offend any man. So he accepted to wear white.

In two years time, he was named Lord Commander of the Royal Guard ― the youngest in the Charge. That gained him both love and respect...but also envy.

"Don´t mind them kid," cautioned the previous Lord Commander, a tall and well built man, with silver hair and severe eyes. "You´re now a leader, but you are not a leader like a king is. If the times comes, you will be the one giving rougher orders. A king may decide the course of a battle ― if the King is a good one, otherwise even that will be up to you ― but you are the one who leads the sword, the first to die if your king is in danger, and the last to fall, fighting and defending your king´s cause.

"You´re now the rock that holds up the swords, but do not forget that even if we are brothers, you will never be the same to them. They will no longer share their jokes with you, nor treat you as they did till now. No, you´re a figure of authority, so they are not only your allies but also your subordinates. Their friendship is not what you should be asking from them. However their respect you shall not lose. A commander without respect is no more than a jester."

The years have took from him the ability to be fast and see far, that which gave him glory in his younger days. He was too old to be in charge anymore, but not to leave his sworn brother. Yet the kind smile on his face that day softened the deep lines that marked his skin. Graham wanted nothing more than to return the burden of command to him, since he knew he wouldn't ever be able to fill these shoes.

He was a great man. And he had died, amid greatness, a year earlier.

«When did I lose my brothers respect?» Graham could almost picture the disappointed look the previous Lord Commander would give him in this instance.

Once outside the door of the Queen´s room, he noted the absence of the guards who were assigned to her safekeeping. Pushing on the doors, he entered without ceremony.

The Queen was there, so serene that she seemed not to notice his sudden presence. The fervent slam of the door against the wall had not altered her. The flames of the fire reflected from her long, black hair and made her skin shine brightly. She was a beautiful woman, and all knew it ― especially her. Her black robe was heavily adorned with huge dark amethysts from Dorme that were embedded in waist, sleeves and bodice swirling around her body, cleavage reaching low down to a very tight waist, slits on the full skirt cutting up to the thigh elegantly. She was indeed a very beautiful woman.

"Sir Graham, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence tonight?" Her back was still facing him, but her head had partially turned his way, letting her loose hair dance from the movement. Her piercing dark eyes were exposed to Graham.

"Lady Regina... I have information about the King´s murder."

She turned completely and sat on the edge of her huge bed. Graham knew he wasn't imagining her sneer. "Oh, really? Well, do go on." The arrogant smile that curved her full red lips and her sharp eyes gave her pale face an unmistakably cruel expression.

"As you know, Master Hopper says the King was poisoned, but it was not anything in his food or his drink." He paused to gauge her reaction, but Queen Regina´s face remained stony. This was not new information for her, as Sir Graham understood. "Master Hopper found two small fang marks behind his left ear ― it was a snake's work. And it just so happens that two days ago, a boat from the city of the sorcerers of Garth made port…with goods for the King's Hand. The ship's crew ensures that one of the chests made strange sounds in the night, like hissing."

She replaced her icy mask for one of perfect surprise and grief, her eyes seemingly filled with tears. "You mean Sidney? But that's not possible ― that ship brought gifts for my daughter, the Princess. I told him myself to deliver the merchandise to Snow´s room. 'Untouched, and completely intact,' I ordered him." She faked a horrified grasp. "If someone were to open the chest…"

"I know what you're implying. And I also know the princess would never hurt her father. If anything, the princess was the one in danger. If Sidney was the one who personally ordered all those objects, he is the one to blame... But of course, he didn't act alone. He does nothing without your request. You were not very discreet, My Lady."

Regina blinked and once again her expression changed, cruel mask returning.

"Discreet, you said, Ser?" Her confident laugh was a rich sound, almost hiding bitter contempt that made him swallow hard. "I've been discreet for far too long, but with my husband dead, why I should be subtle anymore? No man in all King´s Landing would even dream of harming me; therefore, no one will accuse me or do anything with what they know. You believe that you´re the first person to come to this conclusion? Ha, there were more than a few who knew what was coming in that ship, and none of them did a thing to stop me. Where people's loyalty lies depends on what you can offer them. Leopold might have had a lot of rewards to give ― but I have more, and those who were loyal to my husband unto his death were as trusting as he. As idiots as he was. He did me a favor when he filled the Red Keep with fools, while the other half was my own people, of course.

"You were always very smart, my dear Graham. Since I convinced my husband to bring you and make you part of the Royal Guard after that tournament, I must admit that I always hoped you'd come to me of your own accord. If you give yourself a chance, I could be very good to you."

She was so close to him that the smell of incense that perfumed her skin and the warmth given off by her body made him dizzy. For the first time in all the years he had served in the King's Landing, almost innocent eyes changed her face into something ethereal. "I would never accept such a proposition. When I agreed to use the white, I took an oath: I will not take a wife, nor inherit land, and I will serve the legitimate king until death overtakes me. I swore to protect the lawful king, the one that you murdered, and nothing you can offer me will buy my silence. The folk inside this castle may be yours, but out there, an entire Kingdom loves King Leopold."

These words seemed to enrage the Queen.

"Lawful King? That old man was no more than a sack of skin and fat, too weak to govern ― he came to the throne because his brother died, and anyway the Stark blood has never belonged to this place. If the Starks want to rule, then let them do it in the North. I'm sure no one would complain if they wanted to rule that piece of ice ― and for all that I care about the Starks, they can go and bury their heads in the snow they so adore. But do not worry now ― I am the Rightful Queen, so you can serve me, as you so desired.

Graham swiftly drew his sword out and its sharp tip touched her neck, but Regina reacted calmly, with an amused smile. He felt worry and fear urging him to act faster, but at the same time, they held him back. «It was possible that weapons had no effect on the sorceress, » he wondered. «Everyone dies, for swords bring nothing but death. Why is she not afraid? »

"You are not the legitimate ruler ― with all due respect, My Lady. You have no royal blood," he snapped furiously, her tranquility driving him mad.

But the words had more effect on himself than on her. Leopold Stark was not the rightful ruler, and neither was Snow White. A Targaryen might be the legitimate ruler, for only the blood of the dragon was made for a place on the Iron Throne, whose fire was made to send.

«But the last Targaryen was murdered more than half a century ago, » he said to himself. «Besides, you served a King and swore to protect him, legitimate or not. »

«You failed» An annoying whisper reminded him.

A trickle of thick red blood began to run down the Queen's neck and was lost in her cleavage. "Do not be silly, Graham," she said, pushing the sword with her fingers so easily that it seemed she was shooing a fly stupid enough to buzz around her head. "Can't you see all this is a game?

Graham began to feel tired, eyes heavy as the smell of incense intensified. Regina grabbed his chin and her hands felt icy cold. "And there are only two possible endings. Either you're with me ― or you're dead."

The sword slipped from his hand and produced an echo when it hit the marble floor.

"And another thing, dear. It´s not My Lady ― it's My Queen.

Graham then felt a blow to his chest that took his breath away.

His heart hadn't stopped beating from the moment he led to Snow White into the stables, armed her with a bow and a quiver containing twenty-four silver arrows with swan feathers, a sack of gold dragons, a few deer silver and copper stars, and saw her riding into the horizon on her steed.

But now his heart was no longer wild and free ― in fact, he barely could feel its beat anymore. Hands that once seemed cold now warmly closed around his heart. Then came the sharp pain that made him moan and blurred his vision. The agony intensified to the point that he came to ask himself why he had not fainted.

Or maybe he was already dead and didn't know it yet.

"Now you belong to me, your heart is mine."

Graham wanted to protest, but he thought that the decision was not his any longer, The will to open his mouth and answer, or go after the sword and wield it, was gone. He felt empty, empty, empty...

And when he opened his eyes, between the black spots clouding his vision, he saw a mass of flesh, red as death, dripping blood on the pale hand that held it. The mass of red meat had a strange glow and pulsed as if alive.

Life it held. His. Then he understood it was his heart. But the realization brought no fear. There was no pain.

There was simply...nothing.

**A/N: So here is my firs OUTA fic, yap a GOT themed. For those who have not read the books nor seen the show, worry not I´ll be explaining enough so you understand. So I just want to explain some things: The main pairing will be Captain Swan, pairing like Snowing, Outaw Queen, frankiwolf, Red Knave, Cylice, Darling Pan and Ariel/ Erik may not appear to much but their histories will have heavy influence in the main history. This fic ****will be narrated using****the Book´s "A song of fire and ice" format (Or at least I´ll try), meaning that there**** will be ****POVs****of****more than one character****and not just****the main****(though****to understand****better****should****read all****the****POV****and****the stories****are intertwined, It´s up to you really****). **

**Oh, and also I want to send a warm hug to my wonderful friend and beta for this, ****4getfulimaginator****, thank you so much darling, and thank you for give the great title too, my brain was dry and you help me out!**

**So what you think about this prologue? Let me know!**


	2. EMMA I

**Disclaimer:** I don´t own neither OUTA nor GOT. Wish I have that imagination, but nope. Enjoy.

**Summary:** CS Game of Thones AU. A new game is beginning and Westeros is now in and endless darkness. Magic has to come, Emma has to find it. Buy maybe she finds a different kind of magic when she met a cocky bastard. Cs, OQ, FW, Rumbelle, Darling pan, Cylice, Red Knave

**FROZEN FLAMES**

**EMMA**

Emma forced herself to imitate the court and applaud politely as the melody came to an end, stretching the last note of the harp to start a new tune.

Exacting from herself a smile, she tried to clean with her tongue the blood that had flowed from the lip she has been biting, praying to The Seven that no one had noticed. She knew that the eyes of more than one gentleman did not lose the opportunity to scrutinize her, desiring her. After all, just a few months have passed from her seventeenth name day, and she had grown into an appealing match for any young Lord ― rich, beautiful and, more importantly, carrying a powerful last name. So outlining a haughty gesture, her implicit pride and sly beauty that would surely make Casterly Rock´s ancestors smile, she ignored them all.

After two more songs, the voice of the bard had become difficult to bear. All Emma wanted was to unsheathe the sword of Ser Walsh, who was near her, and stab the poor bard. The gift of courtesy and the performance of a Lannister were not inherent in her, and it was obvious she had been glaring the harp man to death when her sworn shield, Walsh of Oz, put his hand on handle of his sword in a protective gesture. However, his disapproving gaze was softened with a serene smile.

Many years ago, when she was just a seven-year-old child, there had been a dispute between the Lannister house and one of Dragonstone´s sworn house. It had been a stupidity, a drunk whose tongue was loose and said some inappropriate things about toilets and intestines that produced gold...George Lannister's Name may have been inserted in between. Offensive words had made an impression on the pride of the Lord of Casterly Rock, and pride was the force that had wielded the sword against the offender.

People have died, people from Pyle.

Pyle's house, vassals of Dragonstone, had gone to the Dark Castle in search of justice, but the Dark Lord knew better than to make enemies of the Lannisters, so he showed blind eyes to the appeal. The Pyles were not known for their refinement, so when they hired a mercenary of the Free City of Myr in Essos to kill the last Lannister daughter as payment for the younger son of the house of Pyle (whose life had been taken in the battle), they failed to take into account the powerful charm the small Lannister already possessed. Beauty was a weapon she had been born with. Blinded by her, the mercenary headed to the house of Pyle in Dragonstone again for returning later with the head of Lord Pyle, who had hired him to kill Emma, with the tongues of the Lord's younger children, who had seconded the notion, and the hand of his brother, who had thrown him a few coins.

_A Lannister always pays his debts._

George Lannister was not only indebted to the mercenary for sparing the life of his only daughter. One day after learning that a mercenary had come to his daughter's bedroom unnoticed, not only had the amount of Red Cloaks doubled in the castle but the main courtyard had also been decorated with the heads of the incompetent guards of the Gold turret where Emma's quarters were. Also, he had gotten the reviled head of Pyle without staining his precious Lannister hands with blood. Emma was very small, yet she had witnessed how her father granted the title of Ser to the young mercenary in front of a large court guarded by Red Cloaks, Lord Lannister guards, and Golden Cloaks, guards of his Lady wife. After she had been called to the center of the lion lounge, where acts of appointments were always carried out, the mercenary had recited a series of oaths, kneeling before George Lannister and Emma, who at her young age stood proudly tall, delicately clenching the silk robes and gold thread of her father even though she didn't understand anything. Under the stony gaze of her father, she had let out a gasp when the young man took her hand and planted a kiss on it.

It was then that she first saw the smiling mercenary, soothing and soft.

It was not until long after that her brother James had explained that the reason Walsh went wherever she went and did everything she asked him to was because since the day of ceremony, Walsh of Oz was appointed as the Sworn Shield of Lady Emma.

Although some said that he was not really any Myrience mercenary, but an apprentice of the sorrowful men (or even it was said to have grown by Braavos and in the Red Fort had been an acolyte of priests, followers of R'hollon, the god of fire and shadow. And seriously who the hell know?), Walsh was experienced and what he had asked Lord Lannister for was to belong to the guard of Casterly Rock and be appointed Sworn Shield of Lady Emma.

"Our sweet little girl seems to not be enjoying the show," whispered Walsh of Oz just above the music and laughter.

"I am not a girl, Walsh," Emma replied drily.

"I think the young men in the room agree with you, my lady, but I doubt your brother matches them," he replied with the sly smile that was his trademark.

Ignoring the hint of laughter in the Knight´s voice, Emma's eyes rose to her left, to the regal figure of her brother, her beloved David.

As children, despite the six years of age difference, David always made time to play with her, even if it meant the wrath of his father and his twin's smirk. Both believed he should be in some class of policy or training with the sword or bow instead of wasting time with his useless sister.

Emma was always fascinated by the difference between the two brothers, so alike yet so different

While David the Golden Lion, as they had named him in a tournament in King's Landing two springs ago, was sweet and fair, honorable and strong, his stubbornness in direct competition with Emma's, Jaimes was all the contrary: cheater and liar, cruel and proud. All those who knew them were aware that their differences were the cause why the two brothers didn't get along. But Emma knew better.

While in the eyes of the youngest of the Lannister the virtues of her beloved brother David were more respectable than his other brother, in the eyes of Lord George Lannister this was merely weakness. Instead, the monstrosity of James was the pride of the Great Lion.

And while one brother was receiving all the love and respect of his father, the other brother had been placed aside, sent to his mother to take care of him. That had only bound more Emma and her older sibling together.

David´s warm blue eyes sparkled hotter than Valyrian fire while trying to kill a young gentleman with a purple unicorn emblem on his chest, whose only crime was to stare at his younger sister dreamily. Only when he felt the weight of his little sister´s glance toward him, he offered her a gallant smile and he winked at the contorted grimace on Emma's beautiful face.

Again the applause rose into the air and cheers of joy accompanied the removal of the happy bard, whose pockets were full of silver coins. Nobody said that Lord George was not generous.

A maid approached her directly, ignoring a few drunken knights who were demanding her attention and not because of the wine. "My lady, can I offer you a glass of wine?" she asked politely.

"No, thank you ― go offer it to my brother, for I am sure he is thirsty," Emma replied, without giving the query much importance.

But the girl did not move. The green-eyed Lady Lannister silently questioned it and only then noticed the way in which the restless girl´s amber eyes peered nervously at her father in the center and above, on the Lord´s seat.

Sideways she captured the tense figure of Ser Walsh, who with an impassive expression nodded his head slightly. Apparently, he had also noticed the little white paper sticking out between the cup and the tray.

"Leave that and go to the kitchen," she ordered gently.

Her fake smile didn't shake off her pretty face. Then the girl eagerly obeyed, and after passing the cup and also note surreptitiously, disappeared into the crowd.

She took a long drink of spiced wine, and while the thick sweetness of it washed away the taste of blood and rust that had been in her mouth, one deft hand unfolded the note for her to read it.

_"Meet me at midnight. Sept of gods, the tower bells," _it said in shaky handwriting, as if someone had written it with his left hand. The contents had her frowning. What did it mean?

The rest of the evening, she tried to hide her concern, and after dinner was served, she refused to dance, rejecting the brave few who had gathered enough courage to speak a few words to her. Although she had done it with the utmost courtesy and an elegant smile on her face, her father gave her a disapproving grimace ― then he promptly turned away to address his affairs with other vassal lords and forgot about it.

Walsh told her quietly when midnight had arrived, although it was not necessary since Emma had been very aware of the passing hours. She excused herself from the conversation she had been having with her Septa, but the criticism that she read in her clear eyes told that Emma had not been fully educated at conversing, not to the taste of the septa anyway. _"I would have to be a porcelain doll painted by hand to please that woman,"_ she thought, annoyed.

She went to the throne of the Lord to excuse herself from her father. Many of his subjects, now lightheaded from wine and beer, complimented her beauty and a few threw her inappropriate looks as she passed by them. That night, Emma was particularly beautiful, the septa had seen to ready her, preparing her hair and perfume since dawn. She wore a dark green velvet dress, cut low, that pointed out the color of her eyes. Her golden hair cascaded in waves over her bare shoulders and clung to notch a golden belt adorned with emeralds the size of eggs.

Putting on a good act, her father stroked her hair with one hand, a gesture that Emma seemed to think served more to kill than to show affection, and kissed her forehead with his cold lips.

Already near the main exit door, the smell of mint and shimmery wine exuded from her father was replaced by the smelly mixture of drunkenness, sweat and traces of food. Emma had to force herself not to wince.

"Where do you think you're going without my permission?" a jubilant voice stopped her. Walsh was walking silently behind her and stood discreetly away from her.

"I did not know I had to inform you of my every move, brother," she replied, turning to meet the happy face of David.

David had never really liked big meetings, and although he occasionally enjoyed the banquets and tournaments, he was the kind of person who preferred the simple, quiet things. Like brushing the horses beside the grooms, though his father disapproved of such behavior.

_"Although the horses must worship him. Instead of being The Golden Lion, he should be Ser Horse."_ She looked at their father out of the corners of her eyes. _"Here are many lions. We need no more."_

"My brother is up to something, are you not?" she inquired before giving her brother the opportunity to answer her previous verdict.

"Why would you think that?"

Emma smiled sarcastically. "Are you going to say that you´re enjoying this party? Go lie to someone who doesn't know you.

David narrowed his eyes in a playful gesture. "Maybe it was just too much wine..."

Emma was silent. A perfectly shaped eyebrow rose in waiting.

"...Or maybe I'm proud that my little sister is able to send her possible future processions to be taken by the Others."

An involuntary smile formed on her perfect red lips, pulling an even bigger smile from her brother. David hadn't always been a jealous and overprotective brother, but that had changed when Emma's chest had started to grow ― and men started to notice it.

"So that was it. I do not know if a man should fear you more in a joust or trying to ask for my hand."

"Well, I think they should fear you, if someone is going to ask for your hand," he said with a mocking grin.

David's smiles were gleaming and wider than before.

"For a man to ask for my hand, he would first have to be a knight brave enough to court me." The playfulness of her smirk lost its shine, yet her smile remained still intact.

They would never discuss it aloud, but the fact that Emma had never been properly courted was a tender subject for the family, always hanging over their heads. She had passed her sixteen name-day, and had flowered two years previous. She was one of the most beautiful women in the Westerland, and yet no propositions had been deliberated for her hand in marriage. She certainly had a lot of admirers, but they would always be frightened away. Emma didn't know if they were afraid of her father or of her.

She wasn't exactly a proper lady ― she would walk around the castle in breeches or race with her brother on their horses ― which it wasn't hard to notice after spending some time with her. Yet Emma wasn't a fool. She knew how good of a match she was, and she knew out there were a bunch of young, ambitious Lords that wouldn't give a damn about her as long they would have the chance to marry a Lannister. Emma was probably the exception.

She never cared about marriage and weddings, yet she couldn't stand the hard, disapproving looks her father gave her constantly. She knew he was expecting to form a good alliance by marring her off to someone important.

_"It's a good thing,"_ she thought. _"I don't want to be married to someone I don´t like. I don't know if I want to be married at all. But I also don't want to be a disappointment to my father." _

David was quick to notice the change in attitude of his younger sister. And posing a large, warm hand on the snowy cheek of Emma, he spoke in gentle voice, not without deep love. "A day will come when you find a man who truly loves you. I will not let Father marry you to any of these whippersnappers to form alliances or to link houses." A bitter glint appeared in his blue eyes, and although Emma noticed it, she chose not to point this out. "A man who can take care of and respect you as an equal, and not some useless man Father chose for you. You don't have to please him Emma. Remember that you are the most valuable jewel of all Casterly Rocks, and do not give yourself to anyone who doesn't deserve you."

David's words softened her heart, but the seriousness of the conversation turned into something uncomfortable. "Don't say it out aloud, or looters will think I'm made of gold and try to rob me."

The joke eased the tense face of her brother again, who burst out laughing. "Well, these rascals believe all. If they could view our father´s latrine to check if he really shits gold, they would" said David in confident tone, partially covering his face so no one could hear what they were saying. As if that were possible in middle of the chaos

An unladylike laugh escaped her lips. It died when the corner of her eye watched the Myrience soldier giving her a distressed glance as he moved his eyes uneasily toward the door. It was time to go.

Feigning a yawn, covering her mouth with one hand in that typical feminine gesture, she kissed David on the cheek and gave him a brief hug. Something inside urged her to do it, to be so loving, despite being visited by a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

That same feeling was intensified as she got closer to the Sept. In the warm spring night, Emma shivered, the chills running up her arms and down her back. Deeply breathing in the fresh air, her hands clutched the layer Walsh of Oz had given her when his path led them to the courts.  
When they entered the Sept, Emma's adrenaline ran inside her stomach, making her regret having eaten so many sweets that night. With cautious steps, Walsh walked behind her. His silence made her even more nervous, but his presence was also comforting. After the great statue of Smith, one of the seven gods, there was a long piece of silk and velvet covering the wall and hiding a secret door that was the only line that could take anyone up to the tower of bells.

_"Whoever said I have to come should also be around here, for this is the only path,"_ she convinced herself, trying to calm her nerves. _"And no one untrusted knows these doors. They won't harm me,"_ she concluded, ignoring the other dark little voice whispering, _"Then why do you doubt, why the secrecy, why so much trouble?" _

_"It must be something important,"_ she said herself.

Behind the door, a hundred steep steps of polished rock, all settled into the shape of snail, loomed. They had to carry torches because the place had no windows that let the moonlight in.

Walsh drew his sword as he secured the perimeter. "I told you we should have brought some guards with us," he said, his voice barely audible. His posture mimicked a panther ready to strike at any moment.

_"A panther is not a lion. And the lions are brave. We do not need anyone to take care of us. I am a Lioness, a true Lannister."_

Sometimes Emma wondered whether the line between bravery and stupidity did not exist in her case.

"You are all I need, Ser. You're my only friend, my most trusted and loyal knight," she replied, her tone conciliatory.

But she also knew that whoever had prepared this meeting wanted it to be as secret as possible, and at this point, Emma was sure that the person who had commanded her to come was someone who had a high position in Casterly Rock.

Upon reaching the top, the air was cold and the wind blew eerily among the pinnacles. Small windows let in a little light from the stars and moon, but not enough.

"Behind me, my lady. I will protect you."

"It will not be necessary," replied a soft voice before Emma could speak.

She opened and closed her mouth wordlessly, like a fish out of water. She knew the owner of that voice. "Mother?"

Lady Lannister nodded and murmured, "My sweet Emma, I'm so glad you're here. Has anyone followed you?"

"No, my lady," said Walsh, stepping forward to answer.

Ruth nodded again, but it was a tense gesture.

Emma felt panic dancing within her skin. Several days ago, her mother had retired to her quarters, feeling sick, and during the following days, Emma barely saw her. It was no secret, the delicate health Lady Lannister always had. Some said it was a miracle that she had lived so many years, let alone that she'd been capable of birthing three healthy children. (No one ever dared mention the many abortions that she had suffered in the process).

"No time for that, Emma," Ruth interrupted when Emma started to protest. She knew better than to defy her mother when she pursed her lips and stared.

Her mother's hair, once blond, looked as smooth as before, but it had lost color and brightness, was silver instead of gold. Under her eyes and around her mouth, there began to form thin folds that enhanced both strange violet-blue hue of her irises and her full pink lips.

"You have to go."

"Where?" Emma thought suspiciously. But she said, "What is going on, Mother? I think you should be resting, We can talk later and…"

"Run away, Emma. You have to leave Casterly Rock."

That took Emma by surprise.

"Sweetheart, you don´t understand," Ruth continued, ignoring all the possible reactions her daughter could be having. "The flags are hoisted, armies march, the men gather. Remember the motto of House Stark?"

"Winter is coming."

"Winter is coming," corroborated Ruth solemnly. "Tension rises in Westerlands, the years of peace are coming to an end, my little one."

Emma Lannister was quick to associate the use of Starks' motto with the death of the King of Westeros, who was a Stark. It was a happy coincidence that her father had called all his vassals right after the death of the king was announced. Not very subtle at that "Winter is coming; the king's dead body has called it."

She was no fool. Since she was a little girl, she could easily read people's behavior. And looking at how all those men were acting, she knew something was off. David usually joked about that, saying that she always found a reason to be suspicious of everything and everybody. _"Not everyone wants to hurt you, Ems,"_ David would say to her_. "You have to learn to trust. Lions are not loners, and that's the reason why they are feared by the rest." _

_"They are feared, yes. But if everyone fears them, how can they be loved?"_ she had wished to answer him. But she didn't.

The first signal that something was…different...odd...was the lack of female presence in the court of Casterly Rock. The Lords hadn't brought their children, and very few had brought their wives. No one had brought their little daughters.

This was a shame, because Emma was keen on seeing one of her very few true friends, Alice Marbrand of Ashemark. For the other ladies she did not care. Emma didn't get along with almost anyone anyway. _"I wouldn't have seen her anyway,"_ she recalled bitterly. A few months before, a crow from Ashemark had arrived, with news as black as the bird that had carried it.

"That's not the worst," her mother breathed out, bringing Emma back to reality. "This morning, a raven came from King's Landing. It was the Queen's." Ruth's small hands twisted around the long sleeves of her dress. Uncertainty formed a lump in the pit of Emma's stomach. "Queen Regina accused Princess Snow White of betrayal ― she says the girl is the King's murderer and that she has fled a few days ago. The Queen requests that all the Lords try to capture the princess and return her to King's Landing in order to prosecute her.

Emma felt stunned by the news. Lady Snow White of the House of Stark was a northern beauty, and throughout the West, she was praised for her beauty ― the most beautiful of them all, they said. Black hair as coal, white skin like milk, lips red as blood...

And the purest heart. In all the seven kingdoms. The Princess was one of the most beloved of all royalty. The peasants cheered for her, the citizens of King's Landing adored her for feeding the poor and caring for their orphans. It was no secret, the disdain felt by the queen for her husband and young daughter.

Lady Ruth took her daughter´s hand and kissed it.

"That's not all." Emma suspected that she was very clueless of what had her mother so anxious about. "Your brother's betrothed, Lady Abigail, has fled with her mother to one of the palaces of her father in Pentos."

That was quite unexpected.

"Wait… She what? That does not make sense, Hightowers are proud people, whatever reason they had, they wouldn't flee like rats. Besides, Lord Midas..."

"―is not the Lord of Oldtown. His brother-in-law is. Lord Midas just wants to protect his family and believes the best way to do this is through a sea of war and distance between them.

"But still, it's a humiliation for House Lannister. My father will not be forgiven."

"The Hightower family wouldn't have forgiven us killing their beautiful Abigail." Emma's breath hitched and her mother's eyes shrewdly narrowed with concern. "Lord Midas is not stupid: your father wants to marry your brother to Queen Regina as soon as possible. She is the match your father always wanted for his heir, she can give your brother the throne… And we both know that your father is a very proud man. Breaking his word means dishonoring the Lannister name. So before breaking a deal, he prefers death ― not his or one of his children, as you know. I realized this, and so did Midas. If I were him, I obviously wouldn't stay and see.

"As you understand," continued her mother slowly, almost as she were tasting dangerous water. Maybe she was. Her tone was urgent but this did not show on her face. "Times of war are when alliances are vital."

Ruth trailed off, but her silence was revealing.

Emma's hair bristled as soon as she caught on to the meaning of her mother's words, and the same happened to Walsh, who visibly tensed by her side.

Lady Lannister raised her head high and her face took shelter behind a mask of imperious iciness. But behind the charade, Emma saw her eyes moisten and thin lips tremble.

"The north says that winter is coming, and they are right, my dear. But you have the blood of the most magnificent creature, Emma, and you won't wait till it comes to you. You're going to it.

**Review?**

A/N: So, I changed the title of this story cause new ideas came to mi mind and… well hehe. Give a like, leave a review if you like.

Ow, and sorry for this to be so simple, English is not mi firs tongue so… wich leads me to thank to my wonderful friend and beta my dead Nataly ()

Next chapter we´ll see certain guy we all love.


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